


a devouring

by winterleaving



Category: One Piece
Genre: Anger, Gen, and by implication i mean the minor character definitely dies, dialogue practice, implication of minor character death, lol, lord knows i need that shit, okay okay okay enough tags lets get this shitshow on the road, or at least suffers sever brain damage, slaps ace, this bad boy can fit so much [issues] into him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28715847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterleaving/pseuds/winterleaving
Summary: An alley, a drunkard, and Ace, angry enough to kill.
Relationships: Ace and Trauma
Comments: 10
Kudos: 15





	a devouring

"How many times do you have to kill me before you're satisfied with yourself, bastard? Once, twice, three times, a hundred fucking more?" How long before you’ll let me rest?" Ace sneered, and felt the ugly expression twisting his features into something more sinister. Stalking forward with all the lope of a predator cornering its next meal, his jaw tensed up, his eyes sparked red and gold, and his fingers curled slowly into fists. Steadily. Deliberately. 

The old man backed up, scrambling unsteadily away until he hit a solid wall behind him, and the boy continued to approach, everything about him screaming trigger-edge and hairpin danger. 

"You want me dead, ah? Old man - you're not special. Every damn person in this world wants me dead, and not for any wrong o’ my own! Just how many times do ya gotta see me shot!?" Fire exploded along his arm, flaring up, drawing solid cold shadows on the walls and ground. The heat crawled forwards in a stuttering climb, higher and higher, hotter and hotter. Eating him.

He could feel his accent getting thicker - the harsh slurring of people raised in the slums and in trash piles, knife edged words of kids who learned to kill before they learned to live; jumping out and grabbing hold of his words. His knife hung in its sheath, and he spared a second to consider, before discarding it to let it hang at his thigh. His body was enough a weapon for a gutter confrontation like this. He was his own blade, now.

Relentlessly, he continued on. "Everyone wants me t’die, so should I die once fer every person? Should I go to sea-damned white coats and ask ‘em t’send me to the firing squads until every last one of you's drank your fill of my blood?"

_ "Should I?" _ He snarled. "Hey.” Yanking the old man forwards by the lapels, he growled low in his throat. “Hey. How many times do you want. To. See. Me. Die? Huh?  _ Huh!?"  _ At this distance, Ace could smell the stench of cheap booze on the bastard’s breath, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

The heat was blistering, now. The old geezer’s shirt was soaked through with sweat, but the alcohol made him brave, loose-tongued. His face was shiny with perspiration, and he spit in Ace’s face. "Yer the son - the son of the devil. Ye said it yerself, didn’tcha? Roger’s cursed spawn. A real monster, eh? Lookit those fires burnin on ye." A hoarse laugh escaped the old drunk's throat and Ace slammed his head against the wall, feeling the impact shake through his hands, reverberating up his bones to his shoulders. Blood blossomed at the impact, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet. The bottle slipped out the old man’s grip, shattering against the ground. Shards smashed at his feet, but they passed through Ace harmlessly.

“Say that again! I dare ya!” Pressure was building behind his eyes, and Ace could see himself flickering, in the corners of his vision. The bastard grinned again, stretching his face wide - his gaping maw swallowing his vision and spotted with crooked, rotting teeth.

"Look at ya," he leered, "inhuman. Ye could a hundred times die an' it still wouldn't make up for yer sins." 

Ace scowled, jerking the man as he twitched. He gave a hiss of pain when his feet crunched on the broken bits of glass, but the pirate barely even noticed.  _ Monster. _ Monster, monster monster. Always a fucking monster. For what, too. For being fucking born? With his blood all tainted and his hands all stained, blackened with his birth, the son of the devil himself. He sucked in a harsh breath, squeezing his eyes shut, and grappled with himself for some semblance of reason - but it was no use. All he could see was the shitty fucker’s flat dull eyes - his mocking grin spattered with shit beer. It was taunting him. How dare he look at Ace like that, how  _ dare _ he mock him, monster, monster monster  _ monster you’re a monster - _

Ah.

He smiled, then. And bared his teeth in a savage grin that didn’t reach his eyes. All the fire extinguished at once, leaving them behind in dark, bitter cold, their dancing shadowing swallowed by the heavy quiet calm before the storm. The old man blinked in confusion, craning his head to try and make sense of it in his sloshed and dizzy mind, squinting as if he might find something in the sudden absence of heat.

Burning ice formed a sun in Ace’s chest, compressing itself into a pulsating star. He whispered to the man, and let his anger drive him true. 

"I'll show you a monster then, if you wanna see one so bad." 

He reared back one arm, and set his fist alight.

**Author's Note:**

> haha


End file.
